


Masquerade

by rubyliam



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 18:36:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12687903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyliam/pseuds/rubyliam
Summary: Prompt: "You're cute but I can't get over how much I hate your mask."





	Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

> Happy!Rowan because this is set if everything stayed peaceful in Terrasen. Evalin and Rhoe are alive, so are Rowan’s parents. Neither of their hearts were ever broken.

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was just about done with any male or female that wished to pull her off her seat and to the dance floor. Dorian Havilliard, heir to the throne of Adarlan, had been eyeing her from across the room, a man next to him not looking anywhere and not even looking as though he was enjoying himself; Chaol Westfall, Captain of the Guard.

Aelin’s own guard, and cousin, Aedion Ashryver sat next to her, and he sent a lifted eyebrow toward her when he caught her looking in the direction of the prince. “Planning to marry Adarlan and Terrasen together?”

“ _Gods_ , no.” Aelin laughed. The only reason she knew it was Dorian, was because he had shown her his face before the ball even started. She didn’t recognize anyone else there, and was only looking to Dorian as a sort of beacon. He was one of the four people she looked to, the three other being her parents and Aedion. Her parents sat on their thrones at the front of the room, but Aelin had abandoned her own hours ago, taking to sit at a table in the back of the room. Everyone still knew where she was, and what her mask looked like.

Aelin adjusted the mask then, slumping her chin into her hand. “This is so boring. I don’t know the point of it.”

“You get coronated in a week.” Aedion said, his own golden wolf mask covering his eyes. “You are the one who picked this theme out, if I may remind you.”

“I thought it would be more entertaining than this--”

“Princess?”

Aelin wanted to let out a grown through her lips. _Another_ man, begging for her company on the dance floor. Her feet were aching, because every time she accepted to make her parents happy. She accepted to make her people happy, to set a good example of herself. Turning around, Aelin plastered a smile across her lips as she glanced to the outstretched hand the man in front of her had. 

His long, silver hair fell around his shoulders, and through his mask, Aelin could recall striking pine green eyes. But the mask--that gods-damned mask was _horrifying_. It was possibly the ugliest rutting thing she had ever seen in her whole life. It was splattered with reds and oranges, a color that had a stark contrast against his beautiful eyes. Aelin put her hand in his, picking up her gown and standing from the chair.

The male held her hand with one hand and put his other on the bottom of her back. It almost made her shiver. He didn’t even pull her to the middle of the floor, like all the other men she had danced with did, but they stood in one corner. It was easy to recognize them, though, as the man then spun her out and pulled her flush against his chest. Aelin couldn’t resist the laugh that fell through her lips. And the smile that spread on his own. . .it was breathtaking.

“What is your name?” Aelin asked, wrapping her hand around his upper arm. She could feel the muscles underneath the tunic he wore. They danced back and forth, slowly, and the male tucked his head to hers, lips hovering by her ear.

“Prince Rowan Whitethorn, princess.”

Now, Aelin was truly breathless. She gasped, silently, but didn’t pull her head back. Everywhere, there were vague tellings of Rowan. How powerful he was during training, how strong he would be when he was a true soldier.

Aelin was fascinated by him.

She looked to her cousin, who had his eyes on them, just like what he had done with every dance before. Aedion was just as amazed with the prince she danced with now. 

“I tried to stay away, but you looked so beautiful that I couldn’t.”

Aelin snorted, a sound that should’ve never left the mouth of a princess, and shook her head. “A flatterer. How cute.” She pulled away and Rowan lifted his head, sharp fangs glistening as he grinned. That _replusing_ mask. Aelin closed her eyes tightly, “You are cute, but I cannot get over how much I hate your mask.”

Rowan howled loud then, making other guests look to them, and Aelin lifted a finger and placed it against his mouth, making a shh-ing sound with her lips puckered. Rowan grabbed her arm and moved it away, a light still in his eyes.

“I think I may hate it more than you.” He moved his head, looking to a man and a woman who sat together at a table in the right side of the room. The woman’s dark blue eyes were looking toward them, as was the man, who had the same silver hair as the one she danced with. Rowan and him looked very identical, and Aelin guessed they were his parents. “My parents despise it also. But, I had to wear it.”

“Can I ask why?”

“My aunt gifted it to me, and if I denied it. . .you know how aunts are.”

“I don’t, actually. Or not how you’re referring to.” Aelin reached up, tugging the mask away from his face. “There.” He sure was handsome.

They danced for hours, Aelin growing to ignore the ache in her feet. She enjoyed her time with Prince Rowan, talking and laughing. They stopped, to talk with his parents, and Aelin shrugged it away when they began to bow to her. There was a feeling she felt towards the male--adoration. She felt a closer connection with him than she had with anyone else. A connection from deep in the soul.

When she looked at him, as the ball simmered down and guests left in carriages and they were still dancing, she knew. Aelin felt that string pull taut, and she had to stop. She braced a fisted hand against him, and saw a similar expression on his face.

“Mate,” she said. “You are my mate.”


End file.
